"No; not a single one," returned Vi, cuddling down again.
"Mamma," said Eddie, coming into the school-room next morning with a slight frown on his usually pleasant face, "why do you call us to lessons? can't we have holidays now that we are going away so soon?"
"No, my son; I think it best to attend now to our regular duties. You will have a rest from study while taking the journey, and for a few days after we reach Viamede. Will not that be better?" she asked, with a motherly smile, as she softly smoothed back the dark clustering curls from his broad open brow.
"But I don't want to say lessons to-day," he answered with a pout, and resolutely refusing to meet her glance.
"My little son," she said, with tender gravity, "were we sent into this world to please ourselves?"
"No, mamma."
"No; 'even Christ pleased not himself,' and we are to try to be like him. Whose will did he do?"
"His Father's, mamma."
"Yes, and whose will are you to do?"
"God's will, you've taught me, mamma, but—"